up," to decide.

A bag of mealie-meal stood in the corner of the tent; I laid this prone
so that it might do duty as a table. Rhodes and I sat down on the
ground, one at each side of the meal bag, and the game began. At first
luck was on the side of my opponent; he ran away with the first game
before I had scored a point, and was soon "all but" in the second. Then
fortune favored me and after a hard tussle I won. When at Groote Schuur
in 1894 I reminded Mr. Rhodes of this occurrence, and found that he
remembered it in every detail.

Among the visitors to our mess tent I recall several who have since
played prominent parts on the world-stage. Among these may be mentioned
Mr. H. C. Seppings Wright, now an artist on the staff of the
Illustrated London News. He occasionally made use of a strange
expression: "Some day I mean to go home and get the drawing." He
apparently meant by this that he intended learning to draw. That Mr.
Wright did "get the drawing" is quite evident from the work he turns
out and the position he holds. I have a vivid recollection of an
excellent pair of top-boots and a very wide scarlet cummerbund which he
used to wear.

Another frequent visitor was Archibald Campbell, who afterwards
distinguished himself in the war between Russia and Turkey, fighting
for the Turks. He came to be known as "Schipka" Campbell on account of
some daring deed connected with the defense of the Schipka Pass, when
he was under the Command of the traitorous Suleiman Pasha. Archibald
Campbell's brother Alister was another guest, also the former's
partner, Reginald Fairlie, who subsequently became a painter, and was
the hero of a very sad and exceedingly dramatic romance. I shall have
occasion to refer to Archibald Campbell later.

Mr. J. X. Merriman dined with us several times. He was at the time in
partnership with Mr. H. C. Becher. Mr. Barry, the first Recorder of the
Griqualand High Court, afterwards Sir Jacob Barry, Judge President of
the Eastern Districts Court, also was our guest. Of the original
members of the mess there are, so far as I know, only four alive. These
are Mr. George Paton, Norman Garstin, Hugh McLeod, and myself.

I well remember one Saturday midnight when the Rhodeses, Campbell,
Fairlie, Garstin, and I returned from a mild spree at Du Toit's Pan.
Close to our camp was a Wesleyan church built of galvanized iron, and
with a rather discordant toned bell at one end. My companions threw me
on to the roof